The snowy plains after the bombing presented a silence of death.
The air was filled with the pungent mixture of gunpowder smoke, scorched earth, and torn flesh. The surviving Ursus soldiers were like startled birds, curling up in craters and ruins, their nerves snapping at the slightest rustle of wind.
But this moment of silence was soon broken by a sound even more despairing.
It was a low rumble coming from the horizon.
From far to near, from weak to strong.
Soon, accompanied by the roar, a torrent of steel appeared at the end of the snowy plains.
Thousands of "Tiger II" main battle tanks came crushing forward with overwhelming momentum.
Behind them were densely packed armored personnel carriers, followed closely by Leithanien's mobile infantry.
The Ursus defensive line had already been torn into tatters during the first day of air raids. Now, facing the frontal assault of the Leithanien ground forces, they organized almost no decent resistance.
A Centurion of the Ursus Imperial Vanguard brandished his weapon, attempting to rally the few dozen soldiers remaining under his command.
"For His Imperial Majesty! For Ursus!"
"Shieldguards! Get up there!"
"Ura!"
Several Shieldguards subconsciously raised their scarred giant shields, but what they faced was no longer swords and arrows.
A "Tiger II" tank did not slow down in the slightest. Its main gun let out a roar, and a high-explosive shell accurately struck the phalanx formed by the Shieldguards.
The violent explosion blasted the shields and the Shieldguards behind them into fragments.
Immediately after, the coaxial machine gun atop the tank began to sweep the area, its bullets harvesting those Imperial Vanguards who still wished to charge.
"This... this is not war..." the Centurion muttered to himself, the weapon in his hand drooping powerlessly.
The next second, he was sent flying by a high-speed armored vehicle, then crushed, disappearing into the torrent of steel.
Meanwhile, on the western flank of the long Ursus defense line, another nightmare was unfolding.
Theresis stood on the bridge of a landship, observing the battlefield with cold indifference through a telescope.
Under his command, tens of thousands of Sarkaz Royal Court Legions surged out from the flank the Ursus people least expected, driving ruthlessly into their chaotic lines.
These Sarkaz warriors included spellblades wielding giant swords, casters chanting witchcraft in low voices, and assassins weaving through the battlefield.
They did not rely on heavy equipment, but on physical capabilities far exceeding those of ordinary humans and Originium Arts to hunt down the Ursus troops who had lost their command.
"Your Highness, Sanguinarch Duqare's troops are a bit too... active," a Sarkaz officer reported with a frown.
"He is gathering the blood of fallen Ursus soldiers into tentacle monsters and is currently 'cleaning' the battlefield."
Theresis lowered his telescope, his face showing no ripple of emotion.
"The Sanguinarch has his ways. As long as we win the war, I do not care about his methods."
"Yes." The officer lowered his head, hiding the unbearable look in his eyes.
Theresis watched the Ursus soldiers struggling within the bloody tentacles, a cold sneer on his lips.
He knew deeply that for the Sarkaz to establish themselves on this Terra continent where the weak are prey to the strong, they had to demonstrate power that made everyone tremble.
Fyodor's stupidity had given him the perfect stage.
Further south in Kazimierz, the war presented a different spectacle.
Margarete Templight, dressed in standard Imperial military uniform, stood atop a command vehicle, her long golden hair fluttering in the cold wind.
"1st and 3rd Armored Battalions, intersperse from both flanks. Ignore those remnant resistance strongholds; leave them to the follow-up infantry."
"Our objective is the rear of Zalak Town. Cut off the retreat of the Ursus army in North Kazimierz."
"Yes, General!"
Seven years of Imperial military service had long honed her from a knight pursuing personal glory into a commander well-versed in the art of modern warfare.
She understood that the outcome of a war was no longer decided by the duels of a few Champion Knights.
Efficiency, logistics, and information were the keywords of war in this era.
The South Kazimierz army she led was a mixed force of the newly trained Kazimierz Youth Army and the Imperial Standing Army.
These young people lacked the arrogance of the old knights. They skillfully operated Leithanien-standard weapons, executing every order from command.
In them, Margarete saw the new future of Kazimierz.
When her troops broke into North Kazimierz with unstoppable momentum, the old knight forces incited by Ursus intended to use the terrain to resist.
But they soon discovered that the knight charges they took such pride in appeared incredibly fragile before the net of fire formed by tanks and automatic weapons.
Many old knights were covered by long-range artillery fire before they could even see the enemy's faces, turning instantly into charred corpses.
Margarete looked at her routed compatriots. There was no pity in her heart, only a trace of sorrow.
The times had changed, yet they still lived in the illusions of the past.
On the Northern Border of Victoria, another female commander interpreted the will of the Empire in a more direct manner.
Herlinmarte Hildegard, the humanoid weapon once honored as the Leithanien Empress, now charged at the very forefront of the Victoria Legion.
She did not ride in an armored vehicle, relying purely on her own two feet to sprint across the earth.
The giant sword in her hand was, in the eyes of the Ursus soldiers, more terrifying than the muzzle of a tank.
When the legion's advance was blocked by a fortress stubbornly defended by Ursus Shieldguards and heavy armored soldiers, Herlinmarte charged up alone.
The heavy armor and giant shields the Ursus people took pride in seemed to lose all meaning before her.
Her figure shuttled rapidly through the enemy formation.
Every swing was accompanied by the terrifying sound of shattering bones and twisting metal.
Shields were smashed into dents; helmets were crushed into powder.
She did not need to use any Arts. Relying solely on pure martial skill and strength, she slaughtered the defenders of the entire fortress within just a few minutes.
The soldiers of the Victoria Legion following behind her watched her blood-bathed figure, their eyes filled with awe and fanaticism.
These former Victorian soldiers, after witnessing the might of the Empire and the valor of their commander, had long since transformed their loyalty to the old dynasty into a fanatical allegiance to the new Empire.
They were proud to be a part of the Empire, and honored to fight following Herlinmarte.
Under the joint strikes of Leithanien's three armies and Kazdel, the defensive line of the million-strong Ursus army was rapidly torn apart.
The technology provided by Columbia, under the guidance of absolute generational gaps in systems and erroneous strategic thinking, failed to play its due role.
Those massive landships were completely destroyed by "Red Flag" anti-ship missiles falling from the sky and heavy bombs dropped by Stukas before they even had time to fire a few shots.
The disastrous defeat on the frontline, like an avalanche, could not be covered up.
Although the official Ursus broadcasts still played stirring marches and fake news of successive victories, sporadic truths traveled back to the country through various channels.
Some routed soldiers fled back to the towns in the rear. What they brought were hellish scenes from the frontline and the fact that the Imperial Army collapsed at the first touch.
"It's over... it's all over..."
In a small tavern in the Ursus hinterland, a soldier with a severed arm downed a mouthful of cheap vodka with his remaining hand, his eyes hollow.
"We didn't even see the enemy's faces... the sky was full of their planes and fireballs..."
The surrounding civilians listened quietly, the expressions on their faces shifting from disbelief to shock, and then to panic and anger.
"Impossible! We have the Emperor's protection! We have the most powerful army in the world!" a young man retorted excitedly.
"Powerful?"
The veteran gave a miserable laugh, pointing to his empty sleeve.
"Is this the price of being powerful?"
"We were deceived... all of us were deceived by that madman Fyodor! He sent us into a meat grinder!"
"Shut up! How dare you insult the Emperor!"
However, this time, there were very few who agreed.
The people's faith began to waver in the face of cruel reality.
Absolute confidence in the Emperor and the army showed cracks for the first time.
And once this crack appeared, it would expand at an astonishing speed.
By the fifth day after the war began, Leithanien's red flag had been planted in the hinterlands of the vast Ursus Empire.
The speed of the armored clusters' advance exceeded the expectations of all military observers.
The Ursus army could no longer be said to be resisting; it could only be considered routing.
Thousands of soldiers threw down their weapons, raised their hands, walked out of the villages where they were hiding, and surrendered to the Leithanien army.
There was no humiliation of defeat on their faces, but rather a relief, as if a burden had been lifted.
They no longer wanted to sell their lives for that Emperor in Saint Petersburg who had long since gone mad.
The tracks of a "Tiger I" tank rolled over the muddy road, with Ursus civilians wearing complex expressions standing on both sides.
Some of them, especially the Infected, even revealed a trace of anticipation in their eyes.
A thin, weak girl summoned up her courage and handed a piece of black bread to a Leithanien soldier who had poked his head out of the tank turret.
The soldier paused for a moment, glanced at the rough Originium crystal cluster on the girl's chest, took the bread, and then pulled a piece of chocolate from his own supply bag and handed it over.
The girl had never seen such a thing. She took it hesitantly, peeled off the wrapper, licked it carefully, and her eyes immediately lit up.
She raised her head and revealed a shy smile to the soldier.
This scene was recorded by an accompanying war correspondent's camera.
Soon, this photo titled *The Taste of Peace* would spread throughout all of Terra via the Empire's propaganda machine.
The winter in Ursus remained cold, but the direction of the war made some people's hearts colder than the frozen earth.
Saint Petersburg, inside the Imperial Palace.
Emperor Fyodor, eyes bloodshot, paced back and forth before the map like a trapped beast.
On the map, the red arrows representing the Leithanien army had already penetrated the heart of Ursus, pointing straight at the capital.
Of his million-strong army that he took such pride in, only a few blue markers remained on the map, surrounded by red arrows, powerless to reverse the situation.
"Trash! You are all trash!"
He violently swept the silver goblet from the table onto the floor, roaring, "An army of one million! Known as the strongest army in Terra!"
"Five days! In just five days, beaten into a total collapse across the entire line!"
"Can anyone tell me why this is?"
Below in the great hall, the surviving generals and nobles kept quiet out of fear.
Chief Advisor Count Bogdanov's face was pale. He opened his mouth, but could say nothing.
At this point, any explanation seemed pale and powerless.
"Your Majesty..." Grand Duke Vanya spoke with difficulty. "Leithanien's method of war... has completely exceeded our understanding."
"It is not the army's fault, it is us... we were wrong from the very beginning."
"Wrong?" Fyodor turned abruptly, staring dead at him.
"I am not wrong!"
"The one who is wrong is that despicable conspirator Lacey!"
"The ones who are wrong are you cowards, timid as mice!"
His eyes turned crazy and paranoid. "But I still have a final trump card... I still have the 'Emperor's Blade'!"
Hearing this name, the expressions of all the high-ranking Ursus officials present, including the most die-hard militarists, changed drastically in an instant.
"Pass my order!" Fyodor's voice was trembling, both from anger and a morbid excitement. "Order all Emperor's Blade units stationed in the North to return immediately!"
"When the Leithanien army approaches Saint Petersburg, release all restraints upon them!"
"I want Lacey's army, and this city, and this land, to be swallowed together by the 'Dominion'!"
"I want them to know the consequences of daring to set foot in Ursus!"
"No! Your Majesty! Absolutely not!" Count Bogdanov shouted.
For the first time, disregarding etiquette, he rushed forward and grabbed Fyodor's arm tightly.
"Your Majesty, are you insane?" Grand Duke Vanya also shouted in terror.
"This is Saint Petersburg! It is the capital of Ursus! The land where our ancestors lived for generations!"
"You cannot... you cannot let the Emperor's Blades release the Dominion here!"
A white-haired old general dropped to his knees with a thud, tears streaming down his face. "Your Majesty, the 'Emperor's Blade' is Ursus's last line of defense, a barrier used to guard civilization and resist the Northern Tundra!"
"It is not used to slaughter one's own people and destroy one's own home!"
"If you do this, you will become the greatest sinner in Ursus history!"
"After we die, we will have no face to meet the past Emperors!"
"Sinner?" Fyodor flung Bogdanov away, laughing maniacally.
"I am already a sinner! My Empire is about to perish! What do I care about the name of a sinner?"
"What I cannot have, Lacey shall not have either!"
"I will turn the entire North into scorched earth that no one can set foot on!"
His madness made everyone present feel a bone-chilling cold.
They finally understood that the Emperor before them had completely lost his reason.
He was not thinking about how to save the country, but how to drag the entire country to be buried with his failure and ambition.
Just as the atmosphere inside the palace was at its breaking point, a clear voice resounded through the entire city via the broadcasting system distributed inside and outside Saint Petersburg.
"Citizens of Ursus, I am the Emperor of the Third Holy Leithanien Empire, Lacey."
This voice seemed to carry a kind of magic, bringing the quarrel within the Winter Palace to an abrupt halt.
It also stopped the panic-stricken citizens on the city streets, who raised their heads to look at the loudspeakers hanging high above.
"The war has proceeded to this day, bringing deep disaster to your country and people. I feel regret for this."
"But this war was not my original intention. It is the inevitable result caused by your Emperor, Fyodor Vladimirovich, and his boundless greed and arrogance!"
"He tore up the alliance treaty and betrayed our trust!"
"He exhausted the military and engaged in aggression, pouring all the nation's wealth into war, yet turned a blind eye to the hunger and suffering of the people!"
"He sent your sons, husbands, and fathers to the battlefield to engage in a gamble with no chance of winning, just to satisfy his own pathetic vanity!"
"Citizens of Ursus, you are a great and resilient people. You should not be buried along with such a selfish tyrant."
"Now, lay down your weapons and open the city gates."
"I promise you, the Leithanien army entering Saint Petersburg will not take a single thread from you."
"We are only here to end this war started by a tyrant, to restore order and peace to this land."
"I will abolish Fyodor's tyranny and severely punish those corrupt officials who oppressed you."
"I will disband those armies that know only plunder, and let your children return to your side."
"The Empire's resources will be used to rebuild your homes and develop your economy, so that everyone can have enough to eat and wear, receive an education, and live with dignity."
"An era full of lies and violence is coming to an end. An era belonging to all the people of Terra is about to open in peace."
"The choice is in your hands."
The broadcast ended.
Saint Petersburg fell into a brief, dead silence.
Then, unknown who was the first, someone shouted:
"Down with the tyrant Fyodor!"
"We don't want war! We want peace!"
"Open the gates! Welcome the Leithanians!"
The long-suppressed anger and despair erupted completely at this moment.
Thousands of citizens took to the streets, converging into an unstoppable torrent, rushing toward the city defense troops who were still hesitating.
Some soldiers laid down their weapons and joined the ranks of the people.
Others who attempted to resist were instantly drowned by the angry tide.
Inside the Winter Palace, Fyodor listened blankly to the tsunami-like slogans coming from outside the window, his face turning from a manic flush to a deathly gray.
He had lost completely.
He had lost not only the war but also his people.
Count Bogdanov took one last deep look at him, his eyes filled with disappointment and sorrow.
He said nothing more, simply withdrawing silently from the great hall and returning to his empty office.
He took a gun from his drawer, looked out the window at the slowly opening city gates and the cheering figures of the people in the distance, and whispered:
"Ursus... my motherland..."
Then, he aimed the muzzle at his own temple.
A muffled gunshot was drowned out by the clamor of the city.
The city gates were pushed open by the combined efforts of the people. Sunlight shone in, dispersing the haze within the city.
Leithanien's armored divisions slowly drove into this capital that once symbolized the glory of Ursus, amidst the welcoming crowds lining the streets.
Fighting almost did not happen.
The remaining resistance was quickly purged.
Jian personally led a team of Golden Law Guards, lunging straight for the Winter Palace.
When the gates of the Imperial Palace were violently breached, Fyodor was sitting on his empty throne, his soul lost.
He looked at the female officer in the black uniform walking at the front, his eyes holding only despair and unwillingness.
He had lost, lost utterly and completely.
Jian wasted no words on him, simply waving her hand coldly: "Take him away."
Two tall Golden Law Guards stepped forward and dragged the once insufferably arrogant Ursus Emperor down from the throne like a dead dog.
That afternoon, a red flag slowly rose at the highest point of the Saint Petersburg Imperial Palace.
The war was over.
The Terra continent welcomed a new overlord.
An era belonging to Leithanien had formally arrived.
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